


Pretty Thing

by FenHarelMaGhilana (WhitethornWolf)



Series: Nyssa of Ralaferin [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Multi, Original Character(s), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhitethornWolf/pseuds/FenHarelMaGhilana
Summary: What began as an invitation to the Herald's Rest ended as a pleasant evening, to say the least. NSFW.





	Pretty Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Nyssa is an Original Inquisitor companion OC, which you can read more about on https://flowercrowndalish.tumblr.com

It was the first time Nyssa set foot in the Herald’s Rest.

Truthfully, she had been avoiding it. She knew what men, especially human men, were like when drink and peer pressure were involved. She’d been to enough taverns across Thedas and they were all alike. Still, it couldn’t hurt to at least get one drink. And the Iron Bull had invited her to drinks. He was buying, he said, in thanks for her timely intervention in their last fight.

It would be rude to not show up. Rude not to accept free drinks, too.

Iron Bull sat at the back of the tavern surrounded by a half-dozen people of all shapes and sizes, although he, as usual, towered over all of them.

“This!” Iron Bull said loudly, and narrowly missed whacking her with a sweep of his arm. “This is the woman who saved my ass!”

“So you live to drink another day,” Nyssa said, and snatched the mug out of his grip. She took a tentative sip, only to grimace as the alcohol burned the inside of her mouth. “Creators, what is  _ that? _ ”

“ _ Maraas-lok _ ,” Iron Bull said. “Hey, I want you to meet some of the Chargers. This is Krem, Rocky, Dalish and Skinner.”

It was Dalish that caught Nyssa’s attention. She was a pretty blonde thing, with eyes as clear green as the vallaslin on her face. Dirthamen, Nyssa noted, Keeper of Secrets. A curious choice.

“I heard you were the only thing standing between Bull and a high dragon,” Krem said, nudging him.

“A second later and I would have been roasted,” Iron Bull rumbled, nose in his mug. “Not a scratch on me. Took the brunt on her barrier.”

“A mage, hm?” Dalish said, a little smirk on her lips. “Haven’t seen one of those since I joined the Chargers.”

Some of the others laughed. Krem rolled his eyes. An inside joke, Nyssa guessed.

 

The liquor may have been strong, but in small doses it did little more than make her tongue and lips tingle pleasantly, and despite herself she began to relax. That was probably Bull’s intent, Nyssa figured, he was impressively accurate at guessing her moods. She didn’t mind it so much -- a night to unwind was likely what she needed. 

How  _ exactly _ she unwound was still up for debate.

“Told you I knew how to work out those jitters,” Iron Bull said to her after an hour. Krem and Rocky had left to drink and play diamondback with Varric, and Skinner had gone in search of a ‘shem who owes me a royal’, as she described. Only Dalish remained, half her ale gone, laughing hysterically at the story Nyssa had told about drinking her clan’s wine stash on a dare. She had a pretty laugh too, high and trilling, sweetly melding with her accent. 

Nyssa imagined that melodic voice in a breathy moan and had to press her legs together, hard. She put half her face into her mug and pretended her flush was from the drink. Bull must have noticed; he smirked at her, but said nothing. Arrogant smartarse.

It didn’t help when Dalish sat on her lap ten minutes later, so she wouldn’t have to shout across the table at Iron Bull...or so she said. It was almost impossible to concentrate on the conversation with Dalish’s breast pressed against her arm, and her fingers lightly scratching her scalp.

Iron Bull did go eventually, likely to take his pleasure with some tavern maid or Dorian, and then it was Nyssa and Dalish and their half-finished drinks.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Dalish said in her ear, and Nyssa giggled.

“He’s not so bad.”

“True. He invited you.” Dalish’s breath tickled her ear. “He knows what I like.”

She tilted her head up, hoping she’d guessed her next move correctly, and parted her lips as the other woman leaned in.

The kiss was a little clumsy. Dalish’s teeth grazed Nyssa’s upper lip and their noses smushed together, but her tongue was deliciously cold and soft, and Nyssa’s imagination descended into fantasy, thinking of that soft tongue on her and inside her. For a moment she utterly forgot where they were.

“Are you coming?” said a heavily accented voice, and Nyssa snapped back to reality.

Skinner had returned to their table; she leaned against a chair watching them, hands playing with her tunic. Was it her imagination, or was the other woman’s face a little flushed? Had she been watching them?

Nyssa licked her lips, glancing between the two of them. Evidently she had missed the nature of their relationship, but neither of them looked angry or awkward.

“How about it,  _ lethallen? _ ” Dalish asked. “You think you can handle us both?”

_ Well _ . She did say she wanted to socialize more.

 

The Chargers shared space in the barracks, but it was hardly big enough for two to ‘rut’ as Skinner put it, and there was the risk of the others interrupting. In Nyssa’s room there was a locked door, a bed and the dim light of her candles. The choice was obvious.

Nyssa undid her belt with hands that shook slightly. She felt shy all of a sudden, unused to having more than one person in her bed, though the maraas-lok helped take the edge off her anxiety.

“Let me do this,” Skinner said when she began to un-knot her sash, and pushed her hands away.

With Dalish standing by her, gently tugging the scarf over her head, it was hard to protest. When she tilted her head up to kiss her deeply, Nyssa relented. That one had a tongue well used to pleasing women.

“ _ Merde! _ ” Skinner said in her thick accent, after a few moments of tugging at her tunic. “Why do your clothes have so many fastenings?”

Nyssa laughed and untied the cords of leather holding the polished horn pieces in place.

“They’re clothes,” she said. “What do you expect?”

 

They tumbled onto the bed together, a mass of tangled limbs, and it seemed the other women could not shed their clothes quickly enough.

Dalish lay on her side next to Nyssa, one arm resting on her elbow. She was slender, tall, her skin smooth and pale. Skinner was slender too, but sinewy -- the type of body one gets from a hard life. Her skin was darker than Dalish’s, but that didn’t say much. Dalish was fair enough to burn on even a sunny winter day.

Nyssa wrapped one arm around Dalish’s waist and pulled her down with an insistent tug, covering one pink nipple with her tongue.

“Mmm.” Dalish smoothed the sweaty hair off Nyssa’s face. “You’re a pretty thing.”

She was throbbing, wet, emboldened by the liquor and excited by their hands upon her. They were everywhere; cupping her breasts, nuzzling her stomach, pulling her soft woollen leggings down over her thighs and knees and breathing on her sensitive ears, kissing and stroking while she sweated and writhed beneath them.

A touch on her upper thigh and Nyssa started, only to relax when she realized it was Skinner.

“It is just me,” Skinner said unnecessarily. Then her clever, small hands tangled in the dark curls on her mound, and those fingers teased apart her outer lips.

Nyssa’s hips lifted off the bed, but she didn’t have to wait. Skinner disappeared between her legs and got to work.

“Closer,” Nyssa said raggedly, squeezing Dalish’s thighs. “I have a tongue too, you know.”

“Ooh,” she said, clearly delighted. “Generous of you.”

“It’s the least I can do --” The rest of her sentence dissolved into a low, sharp exhale when Skinner’s tongue laved at her clit. She moaned and shuddered, her chest heaving, and tried to pull her crumbled focus back together. Laughing, Dalish shimmied up the bed, tossing pillows out of her way, and braced herself against the wall.

 

Later, Nyssa would wonder how she could have neglected her physical needs for so long in favour of work. Eschewing men was one thing, but this? This was the closest thing to a utopia one could get.

Dalish was warm and beautiful and tasted  _ so good _ , and for a moment Nyssa closed her eyes and just breathed her in. She quickly lost herself, her lips and tongue teasing and stroking and circling until Dalish began to rock her hips in tandem. She was sighing and moaning, just like Nyssa had imagined.

With so many sensations -- Skinner’s tongue fluttering on her clit, her fingers moving in and out of her; with Dalish’s hips jerking and her calloused hands pinching her nipple -- it was too much. Her muscles shuddered and spasmed wildly as she came,  _ hard _ , clutching at the only remaining pillow in reach.

Nyssa let her arms and head fall back as she breathed hard and deep, a smile spreading over her face. 

She needed that. She  _ really _ needed that.

She rose up on one elbow in time to see Skinner crawl up on the bed, wiping her mouth and chin. That made her giggle, her breath coming in quick pants as she rode out the waves of euphoria.

Dalish sat back down on the bed, naked and grinning impishly. She didn’t seem to mind the interruption in her own pleasure.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” she said, and traced a fingertip over Nyssa’s breast.

“I’m still tingling,” Nyssa laughed.

 

Dalish and Skinner were clearly lovers on the regular. They spoke little during the encounter but seemed to know when to change position, what was too much or too little pressure, what an arched back or a sigh meant. Nyssa almost envied them at that. She’d had no-one she shared that rapport with, at least not for a long time. She was used to being alone, but sometimes she did want something familiar.

Still, there were worse places to be than here.

Nyssa rose up on her knees and patted Dalish’s hip gently, gesturing for her to move back against the headboard.

“Thought you’d forgotten about me,” Dalish said cheekily, spreading her legs.

“You? Never.”

Those striking green eyes watched Nyssa as she picked up right where she left off, teasing and flicking at her clit, varying the speed and pressure of her tongue and fingers until she was moaning again.

Skinner watched them lazily. She’d rolled onto her back and was touching herself, fingers moving hard and fast. Her moans were guttural and hoarse, forced from her chest as if expressing pleasure was a battle in itself. It didn’t take long for her to come, not with the intensity and speed of her fingers. Her back arched; her hand sought Dalish’s in the rumpled bedsheets. A gesture of surprising sentiment, and one that spoke volumes about their relationship.

Dalish’s hips stuttered, and Nyssa felt the tightening of her thighs seconds before she cried out, high and loud. She kept the pressure consistent and felt those slender legs twist at the intensity of her orgasm -- then she collapsed bonelessly, and Nyssa went down with her.

For a moment they lay giggling and panting, legs and arms draped over their naked bodies as their sweat cooled in the night air.

“Sweet Mythal,” Dalish said eventually, still laughing. “She might give you a run for your money, Skinner.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Skinner retorted, but there was no heat in her tone.

Nyssa disentangled herself from the other elf’s legs and crawled up the bed on her stomach. She hesitated for a second, unsure how they felt about physical affection, and unwilling to initiate it. Then Skinner threw an arm over her and laid her head in the hollow of her shoulder, and Dalish rolled over and smushed her cheek into her breast, sighing contentedly. She supposed that answered her question.

A slender hand patted Nyssa’s hair affectionately.

“You’re alright,” Dalish said sleepily, as Nyssa traced circles on her shoulder. “You mind if we stick around?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

She melted into the bed, muscles relaxing as the exertion caught up with her. She began to doze as their breathing fell into a soft, steady rhythm. 

Tonight at least, her dreams would be pleasant indeed. It remained to be seen what happened tomorrow.


End file.
